Among the works in Ewa Juszkiewicz’s exhibition “Pukle” (Curls), one stood out as even more captivatingly surreal than the others. This painting (all works cited, Untitled, 2013) shows a stiff, white, pompous headdress drifting in a marl-like background of broad brushstrokes. The pleats of material forming the dramatic accessory look as if draped on a woman’s shoulders, but no shoulders are to be seen. Where the face should be, the headdress takes the shape of a rose. At its center, a single eye peers out from beneath the draperythe only visible fragment of a human body. This is Juszkiewicz’s fantastical take on a portrait by the nineteenth-century Danish painter Christen Købke. In contrast to the original, painted in 1832, which depicts the artist’s sister Adolphine, Juszkiewicz’s version does not focus on the person, but on a fragment of her garment, turning it into an